


If we can make even the darkness shine, it will become a starry sky

by StarberryCupcake



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Trans Male Character, fluffy little pick-me-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> “I have a lot of time to listen while I’m here, and you’ve always been my favorite sound”</em><br/>Enjolras is an accomplished violin player who needs to learn how to play with his heart and Grantaire's piano may teach him to do just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we can make even the darkness shine, it will become a starry sky

**Author's Note:**

> I found half of this fic buried between my stuff and decided to finish it. It wasn't originally meant to be published at all, but I thought why not. I was inspired to write it after marathons of Your Lie In April and Nodame Cantabile, but the only things they have in common are classical music students, the instruments they play and the playing like the sheet/playing with the heart duality. Take everything with a grain of salt, because music isn't really my specialty, but I really hope it isn't too bad. The title is from the song [光るなら by Goose house](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnXkhkEvNIM) (I'm obsessed with every album they release I swear).

When Professor Lamarque told him that he was “lacking heart” in his performance, Enjolras hadn’t get it. He is a passionate, opinionated person who has no problem on wearing his heart on his sleeve. Every word he says is tainted in belief and once he had come to terms with his own identity, he had become more confident and sure on his music and what he wanted it to be for. He was outraged, extremely upset, and hadn’t stormed out of Lamarque’s lesson because he respected the man too much to do something childish like that.

But standing in front of that rehearsal room, once all students had left, peeking through the tiny window and listening to that piano, he finally got it.

Enjolras closes his eyes and sees the colors emanating from that music. It is something he had never thought of before, something that mutates before his very presence. He feels chills down his spine when he recognizes _Butterflies and Hurricanes_ , the notes fitting together with the melody and the lyrics floating unsung in the air. However, it easily changes and moves and re-structures into Chopin, fast-paced and subtle and feeling like rain on your skin, but it doesn’t last long either, because it starts transforming again, until it becomes _When You Were Young_ , getting stronger and growing with every lyric Enjolras sees clearly patterned in his head. The strength becomes even greater when it transmutes into Schumann, intimidating, powerful and determined, black and blue and burgundy red, and then it starts shouting and blasting with _Best Of You_ , until it ends.

Enjolras’s eyes are watery, his throat feels as if it is tied in a knot he cannot unravel, and if his instinct hadn’t been to grip his violin case until his knuckles felt embedded on it, he would have dropped it as soon as the very first change happened. The person on the piano smiles and sighs, content with the music that just came out of the instrument he gave life to, and closes the fall-board before standing up.

Enjolras opens the door, a blast interrupting the peaceful interlude of silence after the performance, like a single clap from a crowd that should have been there to cheer in admiration, but hasn’t really existed.

“How do you do that?” he asks the player, whose easy smile fades into surprise.

Enjolras feels he has seen the young person before, but the image seems out of place in the Conservatoire. It wasn’t there where he’s heard those hands first, it wasn’t with the sound of a piano. Still, he feels it has been _important_ , yet is unable to place it.  

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know there were people still here...I’ll just leave and let you practice...” as the stranger turns to grab a bag sitting beside the piano, Enjolras’s hand stops the motion.

When he sees the look of shock on the stranger’s face, he immediately lets go.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean...I didn’t want to scare you” Enjolras sighs “I was so moved by your performance, I’d really like you to guide me through it” he explains, averting the other’s eyes.

“My performance?” he blushes noticeably, taking a step back “ _You_ heard me?”

“Yes, it was beautiful” Enjolras smiles sincerely “You’re extremely talented”

“Oh, it was just what I felt like trying” the stranger laughs nervously.

“Felt like trying?” Enjolras asks, taken aback “Why do you say that? It was fantastic practice...I wish I could play that way”

“ _You_ ?” he scoffs “The great Enjolras wishes he could play like _me_?”

Enjolras’s feelings are mixed at that. On the one hand, he appreciates the person’s respect, not everyone uses the pronoun correctly, especially the students and teachers who have known him since he was a kid, “a little girl prodigy participating in competitions by her parents’ demands”, as they put it. On the other hand, he is getting very upset at the fact that this piano player is under-appreciating the kind of music which Enjolras himself is unable to perform, as if it has merely been a lucky strike or a random accident.

“Why are you saying that?” Enjolras hates that he sounds almost hurt “You seem familiar, have we met before?”

“I can’t even fathom that we’re meeting right now...and I’ve probably already offended you in a million ways and Joly and Bossuet are going to be all over that when they find out, _‘of course Grantaire’d do that, he’s such an asshat like that’_...” Grantaire —which seems to be the stranger’s name— trails off on his imitation of Joly’s voice, suddenly aware of the ramblings he is confiding in Enjolras, to what he can’t help but giggle at.

“You’re friends with Joly and Bossuet?” he inquires “No, that’s not it...I don’t think that’s how I met you before, it sounds different in my memory”

“Sounds?” Grantaire asks “Your legendary echoic memory?”

“Yes, I…” Enjolras frowns “Which year are you in? It may have been in class...”

Grantaire looks sheepish then. His eyes get lost in the details of the piano and his fingers trail over the fall-board absentmindedly.

“If this were a movie, this would be the part in which I lie to you out of embarrassment, make a fool out of myself for it and then you figure it out and hate me forever” his smile is sad and hopeless and Enjolras wants him to be like when he plays, happy and carefree “So I’m gonna save both of us the pain and tell you the truth”

“I’d rather like that” Enjolras tries to be encouraging but is completely unable to tell if he sounds like so.

“I abandoned the Conservatoire during my second year, I was failing everything and started realizing maybe it wasn’t for me…” he sighs “but being the masochist asshole I am, I couldn’t stop playing. I was very broke and couldn’t pay the fees I owed so I took a job as the tuner to pay them. That’s why I said I was ‘trying’ what you just heard, I was _trying the piano_ ”

Enjolras can’t believe what he hears. That someone who can create that sound without sheets or teachers had been failing classes and felt music wasn’t for him. When it clearly emanates through his every pore. When he can _paint_ with it. But he gets it, the Conservatoire is mostly into copying exactly what the sheet says, which is what competitions judge and what gets you jobs. Prodigies are considered as such when they can play perfectly with the directions given, not when they...when they have _heart_. Which explains why Lamarque is the only one who has asked that of Enjolras.

Grantaire was playing without worries, without trying to impress or to be perfect or follow a guideline. He was following his feelings, fitting together pieces that seemed uneven but could bond together with the proper technique, like blending shades into one another, until the edges disappear and they seem one organic piece. He can reproduce the image in his head with an artistry that speaks of vision and feeling. He plays with the notes like a child, like a kid who is offered all those colors to paint his own landscape with his fingers…

And then, with that image in his head, Enjolras remembers. He remembers the first time he’s heard Grantaire’s music.

“A _guitar_!” he exclaims, and Grantaire’s expression is extremely puzzled “That’s what you were playing when I first met you!”

Enjolras reaches out and takes Grantaire’s hand in his, unashamedly and unaware of their proximity, trying to convey the joy he feels at re-encountering him and his respect to his abilities.

“You were in the park, a few blocks from here, playing a battered guitar. There were kids around you who danced and jumped, shouting songs at you and you changed from one to the other, skipping between them like playing hopscotch, as if they all made the same tune” Enjolras closes his eyes “There was a transition from _A Whole New World_ to _Happy_ and then _Let It Go_ which turned into _Fireflies_ …”

“Your memory is even more impressive up close” Grantaire whispers.

“Could you coach me?” Enjolras’s eyes open wide, his hand still holding Grantaire’s in his “Please, I’d pay you as much as you need and I would be ok with whatever time you have left for me, I’ll make it work, I promise”

“I don’t even know how to play the violin, I probably would be no good…”

“You’re perfect” Enjolras lets out, and is suddenly very aware of their proximity.

He lets go of Grantaire’s hand and takes a step back, suddenly incredibly flustered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so persistent, I’m normally not this…”

“Effusive?” Grantaire smirks “I know, this is all very surreal to me...I’ve heard most of your performances, you know? Although, now that I think of it, it sounds kinda creepy when I say it like that…”

“You did?” Enjolras starts to feel dreadfully self conscious.

“Yeah, my teachers advised me to hear you perform, to see if I could learn something…” Grantaire laughs nervously “You inspired me a lot, but it didn’t work for what they intended...you made me want to keep doing what I did, to keep playing what I felt, even more forcefully”

Enjolras is at a loss for words. His violin feels incredibly heavy in the hand that hasn’t touched Grantaire and his grip feels almost numb.

“Why?” he asks “Compared to you, I’m barely a machine”

Grantaire looks at him then, as if he could see through him. As if he could read him.

“You speak through it, just like me” he confides “But you’re barely in your introduction, just about to reach the exposition...you just need to know how to listen”

He reaches Enjolras’s hand, the one holding the violin case with such strength, and places his over it with an ease that is contagious.

“Play with me?” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

He doesn’t even give Enjolras enough time to inquire which piece they were to perform, which section or tempo. He is going to lead, as if they were dancing, and Enjolras is to follow. It is a risk. Grantaire’s form of music is a patchwork, a recollection of pieces that don’t fully go together, and if Enjolras is to follow, he has to know which songs or pieces they are performing. But Grantaire takes advantage of the very thing Enjolras’s teachers consider a blessing and Lamarque thinks a burden: his incredible echoic memory.

The beginning is played only by Grantaire’s hands, and it takes Enjolras a small while until he places the song. It is one of Bahorel’s favorites, one she sings when she is most energetic, and Enjolras asks himself whether Grantaire knows her. Enjolras can almost hear Bahorel’s voice “ _come on and show them your love, rip out the wings of a butterfly_ …” but then it changes, it swiftly transitions without losing its power, and Enjolras feels his body following before he can even realize it. His hands accompany Grantaire through Rachmaninoff, until it slows down, _slows_ , and picks up in time, the notes feeling like home, like cocoa and marshmallows and Courfeyrac asking him to watch a movie with him, _“come on, Enjolras, you look so much like him”_ , like Howl, and that amazing music, with a moving castle and fields of flowers and Courfeyrac hugging him after a long day in which someone made him feel he wasn’t himself. When the tempo drops again, it flows easily into Mattheson’s _Der brauchbare Virtuoso_ , playful and kind, but after merely minutes into it, when Mattheson starts moving faster, happier, more gleeful, Grantaire doesn’t let it get quite there, because it is sliding into soul, into Bossuet’s Queen, whose voice they all get to hear at least once when they meet him and nobody ever complains about it. Enjolras almost feels Janelle Monáe’s silky voice asking _“are we really living or just walking dead now?”_ . It doesn’t stay still yet, it moves, it quiets down, as if it intends to disappear, and you can almost hear how it starts crying with Fauré, very slowly and very steadily, the prelude for something even sadder, even softer, until it makes it’s final change. It is a song Cosette performed in her last exam, a song she had sang to him a million times and asked him to accompany her on the stage, since it means so much to both. The rhythm stays slow with each confession, with each plea _“everybody look around, I don’t know how to fill the space, the invitation’s on the page, open up my ribcage”_.  

When they finish, Enjolras feels drained. It isn’t that it has been difficult to follow Grantaire’s lead, but that he has finally understood how emotional the process is. He hasn’t just united songs, it is a piece of a map to Enjolras’s very soul what they have sketched together. Enjolras doesn’t know there are tears on his face until Grantaire starts apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, was it too much?” he stands up and his hand reaches towards Enjolras’s cheek but stops before touching him “Sorry, I…”

“How did you know?” Enjolras asks, putting his violin down with reverence, thanking it for staying with him throughout “How did you know what to play?”

“Well, I know ‘Rel and know she’s a friend of yours too, so H.I.M. was pretty much a given, and I also performed at the same competition your curly-haired friend played Howl’s theme with you, so I knew you’d know that one. Bossuet adores Janelle too much for you not to have heard her and I worked tuning for the last exams when your friend performed Mary Lambert with you…” he sighs “Being the most prodigious player in here, I couldn’t miss encountering you even if I tried not to, so I picked up some pieces of your puzzle...the ones I connected to the most myself, I guess”

Enjolras sits at one of the chairs next to the piano. His heart is still beating too fast and his hands shake with the feeling of letting them dance over the strings instead of just making them follow patterns. It is exhilarating and terrifying and feels as if Grantaire has grabbed him and won’t let him go. As if Enjolras himself doesn’t want him to ever let go.

“I don’t know how I could ever thank you” he finally says, as Grantaire sits beside him “It is scary and intense but still...I liked it a lot”

Grantaire releases a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath ever since Enjolras sat.

“I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you or anything...and I guess this doesn’t help my point, it’s just...” his lips form an easy smile and he looks at Enjolras’s violin with fondness “I have a lot of time to listen while I’m here, and you’ve always been my favorite sound”

Enjolras looks at him then and, when their eyes meet, he feels he can’t just look away.

“I’m a bit in a predicament here” Enjolras confesses, smiling shyly “because, on the one hand, I’d really love to ask you out but, on the other, no date could top how personal we just got”

Grantaire looks as if his brain has short-circuited. His hands drum nervously over his knees and Enjolras commits the action to memory. There are puzzle pieces he needs to gather too.

“I think you should ask me out anyway” he bites his lip, trying but failing to suppress a smile “It’s not like coffee would make this any less great, you know”

“I guess you’re right” he reaches Grantaire’s still moving hand and takes it in his “Which time do you finish here?”

“Normally, in an hour, but if you’d like to help me try the rest of the pianos…” he suggests with a smirk.

“Let’s make it half”

**Author's Note:**

> For your convenience, here's a list of the songs/pieces played and mentioned in this fic, with links to mostly covers and performances in the respective instruments (with a few exceptions of those I couldn't locate in said form).  
> [Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse (piano)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdiaOA8pdjw)  
> [Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okSpoz6ZUOU)  
> [When You Were Young by The Killers (piano)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EpsVsj2iazU%20)  
> [Schumman’s Piano Concerto in A Minor Opus 54](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bHIfBdMP_P8)  
> [Best Of You by Foo Fighters (piano)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Yxzkn_lPt0%20)  
> [A Whole New World from Aladdin (guitar) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGU7vhYx2s8)  
> [Happy by Pharrell Williams (guitar)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkmlGtzL5Xs)  
> [Let It Go from Frozen (guitar)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AAnID4RS7Vg)  
> [Fireflies by Owl Ciy (guitar)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3CdjIrKcq8)  
> [Rip Out The Wings of a Butterfly by H.I.M. (piano)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E57Qqq2BPks)  
> [Rachmaninoff’s Prelude Op. 23 No. 5](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JHPed9rhoOY)  
> [Howl’s Moving Castle Theme (piano and violin)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJUg8UuJHkQ)  
> [Mattheson’s Der brauchbare Virtuoso](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y08JGATD16E)  
> [Sincerely, Jane by Janelle Monáe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b_WhE7mBwK8)  
> [Fauré’s Violin Sonata No. 1 Op. 13](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKum6jOjn6s)  
> [Ribcage by Mary Lambert feat. K. Flay ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vO-1to3nv6s)
> 
> As I said, take my representation of music with a grain of salt and, even if I can place where I see/listen in my head each piece/song transitioning into one another, I don't have enough knowledge to faithfully represent it, so call me out on it if you want. Also, this is unbetaed and my characterization is weak (although I do have strong brick reasons why Grantaire plays the way he plays and Enjolras plays how he does, but you don't wanna hear them right now) because not only this wasn't planned to get published but also I thought I wasn't going to write for this fandom anymore. Yet here I am, back again. I hope this wasn't too dreadful, thanks for reading!


End file.
